A New Life
by Amethyst Clouds
Summary: Under Revision:The Dursleys give Harry to two siblings who are quickly rising through the ranks of England's shadow world. How does being raised by two of the deadliest people in England change Harry's future, or rather the future of Christopher Dwayne?AU
1. Good things come to those who take?

_AN:_ As everybody who read the original story noticed, this is a repost. There have been some changes made although the basic plotline remains the same. There really isn't any changes in the beginning although I added a bit to the end. I appreciate any comments and all feedback; constructive criticism is very, very welcome.

_I do not own Harry Potter._

_-Noda_

**Prologue**_- Good things come to those who...take?_

Melanie Dwayne shook her head in exasperation as she finished reading the contents of the manila folder in her lap. She handed it to the man seated beside her and stretched.

"Honestly, I've quite run out of patience for Dursley, I say that we just dispose of him. What say you, brother mine?"

Damien Dwayne didn't answer, his dark blue eyes gleaming as he flipped through the papers. Melanie glared and slouched in her seat, muttering to herself until he tapped her on the head with the folder. She turned expectant eyes to him.

"I, too, am quite done with him. Why don't we pay the Dursleys a visit tonight?"

Melanie gave him a feral grin and pantomimed shooting a gun as her brother bowed his head in acknowledgement.

--------

The name Dwayne was quickly becoming something to be feared and respected in England's shadow world; the two siblings who had first appeared out of nowhere as assassins had gained ambition and power.

Melanie Dwayne, a woman as intelligent and deadly as she was beautiful, startled those who found out that she was the brains behind the duo. A pale heart-shaped face with thoughtful brown eyes framed by soft golden brown locks, she was all smiles and laughter one minute and a cold-blooded killer the next. The many who underestimated her had only to see the childish glee with which she drilled a bullet into a man's skull before understanding her reputation which was as notable as that of her brother, Damien Dwayne.

Damien Dwayne spoke little and usually sat silent beside his sister as she chattered to her heart's content. His piercing dark blue eyes set in a coldly handsome face often left people staring in awe; his neatly cut black hair and significant height only added to his intimidating image. He seemed to exude a power and authority that others could rarely bring themselves to challenge.

On this particular evening, the two had been studying their small but growing business and had noted that a certain Vernon Dursley had failed to repay the loan that they had kindly extended. Although one of the first clients of the Dwaynes infant business he had repeatedly failed to keep his end of the bargain and they took it as a slight to themselves, and the Dwaynes didn't take such slurs lightly.

--------

It was shortly past midnight when the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive swung silently open. Two figures slipped in, closing the door behind them with a quiet click before making their way upstairs.

The steady ticking of a clock echoed through the house as the door closest to the stairs was opened.

Melanie peered into one of the two cribs in the room. A chubby blonde baby was asleep, cushioned among an army of stuffed animals, snoring lightly. Muffling her giggle into one hand, she poked his cheek until he yawned and turned onto his stomach. Damien stood across the room, his back to his sister, looking down into the rickety crib that held another baby— this one with a mop of dark hair and a curious scar. Running a finger gently over the infant's fist, he tensed as green eyes sleepily opened. The baby blinked and hesitantly gripped the man's finger. Damien's face was inscrutable as he gazed down at the baby before he gently withdrew his finger, tucked a worn blanket over the strangely quiet child, and turned away.

"Aren't they cute Dai?"

Melanie made a soft disgruntled noise when her brother ignored her, stepping out into the hall to open another door instead. She couldn't help snorting in amusement when a loud snore came from inside. Damien shot her a warning look before he strode in and placed the barrel of his gun against the fat man's head, waking him instantly.

"W-what?"

"How do you do Mr. Dursley?"

"Do excuse us for intruding at this late hour."

Melanie flicked on the light before she pointed her own gun at Petunia whose frightened eyes darted around the room before fixing themselves on her husband. Said husband was starting to sweat as he slowly heaved himself up into a sitting position.

"H-how did you g-get in here?"

Melanie flashed him a bright smile.

"It wasn't all that hard considering that you didn't invest in even the simplest alarm system." The slight tilt of her head leant her expression a degree of mockery. "Shame on you Mr. Dursley, anyone could waltz into your home and do as they wished." Then, almost as if she'd forgotten, "Oh! While we're here, would you care to explain your failure to turn in the payment this month? And the month previous?"

"Payment? Vernon, what's going on?" Petunia's voice was slightly hysterical as she clutched the blankets to her.

"Petunia, dearest, can't we talk about this later?"

Vernon shot his wife a pleading look which she ignored, her reply frosty and laced with anger as she straightened, her fury ignited by the combination of being woken by threatening strangers and her husband's spinelessness before them.

"Vernon, I want an explanation. _Now_."

Melanie lowered her gun and Damien raised a brow. She shrugged as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, watching the two occupants interestedly.

"It would be ill mannered of us not to give Mrs. Dursley a few minutes to understand the situation; after all, it wouldn't be proper to involve her in something that her moronic husband did."

Damien leaned against the wall and tucked his own weapon away.

"My sister has a point. Don't you agree Mr. Dursley?"

"I…"

Petunia pursed her lips at her guests.

"As his wife, I am involved in anything my husband does but I appreciate your…_thoughtfulness_."

Melanie's grin widened as Petunia turned to her husband.

"Vernon, what are they talking about?"

Vernon stuttered out an account of his dealings with the Dwaynes to his increasingly livid wife, taking pains to keep it as brief and as vague as possible.

"How much do you owe them Vernon?"

Her husband paled and mumbled something until Melanie coughed warningly.

"Your wife asked you a question Mr. Dursley, let us not be rude."

"A-a few thousand pounds—"

Petunia's eyes widened as she gasped in shock. Vernon hastily reached out for her and his speech came in rapid bursts as he tried to calm his wife.

"Forgive me Petunia, the company was in trouble and we were going to be turned out on the streets if I hadn't borrowed the money."

Damien straightened and the _click_ of the safety pulling back seemed to explode through the silent room.

"Yes, about that money, we are starting to wonder if you will ever pay it back; we've waited long enough and so…

"I swear I'll p-pay you back!! I swear!!"

"That, I'm afraid, is not good enough Mr. Dursley."

As Damien raised the gun Vernon frantically waved his hands, his horrified gaze spreading across his gray face.

"Wait!! Can't we make a deal? What if I gave you something else instead of the money?"

Damien narrowed his eyes at the man and Vernon shuddered violently.

"I don't take kindly to people who try to haggle with me, Mr. Dursley."

"Damien, do control your temper."

Melanie had been watching Petunia whose lips had tightened but otherwise had shown no other sign of fear, rather, she seemed to have resigned herself to…death? Pain? Whatever it was the woman had piqued her curiosity.

"And do you have anything of worth that you might offer us?"

The man looked around madly, grasping at the chance that he might save himself from the bullet loaded into the solid, heavy weapon that rested in Damien's hand, before he sucked in a sudden breath, a desperate glint in his eyes.

"My nephew. You can have him."

Petunia uttered a strangled noise, but her husband ignored her, or simply didn't hear her, as he bulled on with a feverish enthusiasm.

"His good-for-nothing parents are dead and he was left on our doorstep. You can have him; I'm sure you can find some use for him."

"And what use would we have for a baby Mr. Dursley?"

Melanie giggled at the absurdity of it, twirling the gun carelessly, heedless of Petunia's wary glance.

"Maybe not now but after he gets a little older, I'm sure—"

Damien's hand moved faster than they could blink and Vernon recoiled from the hole that the bullet had ripped in the wall just above his head. The man couldn't have spoken to save his life.

"You disgust me Dursley, selling off your nephew like a common slave. But, I must admit I'm intrigued. Do you think the exchange satisfactory, Melanie?"

His sister shrugged, speaking distractedly as she watched Petunia struggling with herself.

"I feel that this is the best we shall get from him. Mrs. Dursley, do you have any objections?"

Petunia started than sniffed derisively.

"Take him, I really don't care."

Melanie beamed and clapped her hands excitedly.

"If you would kindly gather his papers and belongings we shan't bother you any longer."

The Dursleys stared at her uncomprehendingly and she sighed.

"We will be taking your nephew with us so please bring him before we change our minds."

Petunia didn't move as Vernon rushed out of the room. Her eyes had a far away look to them but she briskly shook her head and straightened her shoulders.

"I suppose this is for the best."

In a few minutes Damien held the dark-haired little boy in his arms and Melanie toted a small duffle and a sheaf of papers. Vernon eagerly shoved a bag half full of bottles and diapers at her.

"His name is Harry Potter and he just turned two a few weeks ago."

Melanie took the bag without a word and swept out of the house. Damien paused at the door and turned back to face the nervous Vernon who flinched under the merciless gaze.

"Dursley, our business with you is complete. Take care not to cross our path again for that will be the day you die."

--------

Next door, Arabella Figg glanced out the window and muttered to her cats, shuffling into the kitchen for her customary glass of warm milk with just a teaspoon of honey for flavor.

"Young people nowadays, don't have any respect for others, they don't. Traipsing around at all times…"

If only she knew.

Later, when Albus Dumbledore asked the elderly woman to look over Harry James Potter she could only stare at him blankly, wondering if all those Muggle sweets had finally gotten to his head.


	2. Run, run, as fast as you can

_AN:_ This is where the major changes take place. I originally had a time skip of eight years but that really became a problem later on so I went back a few years. Besides, I wanted to show more 'Dwayne family time' and how close the three of them really are. So...onwards!

_I don't own Harry Potter._

**Chapter One**_- Run, run, as fast as you can..._

"Mister Dwayne, Miss Dwayne, I'm sorry to bother you like this; I know you're very busy."

A blonde woman shook the two proffered hands before she gestured at the chairs across from her. Damien gave the teacher a courteous nod as he sat.

"It was no trouble Miss Sheridan; we can make time for anything concerning Christopher."

Seating herself behind a desk decorated with color paper cut-out flowers and finger paintings the woman pulled several papers out of a leather notebook and handed them to Damien.

"These are the last few assignments that Christopher has turned in. If you would look at the circled sections you can see that he's been struggling a bit."

Melanie leaned over her brother's arm to examine the work.

"Is it a cause for concern?"

"No, not quite yet, however, I thought it would be best to sit down and talk it over with you considering he is a special case: because he advanced through so many classes so quickly he is much younger than his classmates, he doesn't have the experience with the subjects that they do, and he oftentimes chooses not to interact with the others. I believe that it would be better for Christopher to go back a few years into a classroom with children his own age."

Melanie shook her head.

"I'm afraid we cannot choose that course of action: Christopher adamantly refuses to go to a lower grade. Personally, I don't think that it will make quite the difference that you expect it to, Miss Sheridan; he is only a year or two ahead of other six year olds."

Damien glanced through the second sheet before he spoke.

"If you think it necessary we will look into hiring a tutor but if Christopher desires to continue at this level, I have no objections as long as he is able to."

The teacher sighed, resting her clasped hands atop her desk.

"I really wish you would reconsider. We will be covering progressively difficult material and I feel that Christopher will continue to fall behind."

"If that occurs, we will speak with him about transferring out."

Damien placed the papers on the desk. Melanie smiled warmly, trying to soften her brother's curt words.

"Miss Sheridan, you of all people should know that there is something difficult for every child; science simply happens to be Christopher's weak point."

The teacher nodded and stood, signaling the end of the conference. The Dwaynes rose and, again, shook hands with the woman.

"I suppose it must be. I'm terribly sorry for making you come all this way for nothing."

"Please, don't apologize. Thank you for taking so much trouble with my son."

Miss Sheridan blushed; Damien's previous discourtesy seemed to be forgiven.

"Will I be seeing the two of you at next week's school outing? Parents are encouraged to attend."

"We haven't decided just yet."

They spoke for another few minutes before the Dwaynes took advantage of a break in conversation to leave.

----------

"I don't want a tutor. I don't need one!"

The six year old slouched sullenly in his seat, glaring crossly at his father and aunt.

"Well, you won't need one if you can manage science on your own, if not…"

"NO!"

"Christopher, please don't raise your voice indoors."

The boy slid even lower in his chair and Melanie sighed.

"What's wrong with getting a tutor? They'll just be helping you to understand your homework…Chris?"

"Why can't _you_ just help me?"

He kicked his heels against the legs of his chair and met Melanie's reproving gaze defiantly.

"I don't see a problem with that."

Damien spoke for the first time, startling the two of them out of their staring match.

"Really, Papa?"

"You can't be serious Dai."

"Do you have any arguments against it Mel?"

"If that will be your decision, please feel free to take the responsibility for it."

"Very well."

Chris's petulant mood seemed to dissipate and in a few minutes he had forgotten all about it; his words cheerfully tripping over each other as he described just how _fun_ his class trip would be.

--------

"If you would do me the small courtesy of being silent I believe this will be easier."

Melanie stopped in mid-sentence, tapping her nail on the paper in her lap.

"Left Dai, _left_. You turned _right_. If you would indulge me and make a turn at the next light…Dai!"

Her brother passed the light without blinking and Chris stifled a laugh from the backseat.

"By the Lady—"

The car slid smoothly to a stop inside the amusement park's parking garage. Damien took off his seatbelt and opened the door before he glanced at his bewildered sister.

"Look closely at the directions, Mel."

He stepped out and closed the door, moving to help Chris out of the car. Melanie slowly looked at the paper, already suspecting what it was that Damien wanted her to see.

The bloody thing was upside down.

As she was a mature and cultured individual, not some uncouth and uneducated barbarian, she didn't ball up the cursed piece of regurgitated tree. Instead she calmly folded it and tucked it deep, _deep_ into the space between her chair and the arm rest; may it rot in peace.

"Aunt Mel, let's go!"

Melanie adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started for the trams which had hyper rabbits painted on them.

Damien fell into step beside her as Chris scampered off towards the group of chattering children. As he neared them his classmates one or two called out his name in greeting.

"Would you mind refreshing my memory on why we decided to come?"

Melanie eyed a sniffling girl disdainfully as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Damien steered his sister away from the altogether too enthusiastic Miss Sheridan.

"Quite unfortunate really, you woke me up several nights in succession sobbing pitifully that 'our precious baby' would be kidnapped or fall out of a rollercoaster or some other fanciful drabble if we weren't present."

"Are you mocking me?"

"I would never dream of it."

"There are a hundred thousand things I would rather be doing than spending the day with these sugar-fueled gnomes."

"Mister Dwayne! Miss Dwayne! I'm so glad that you could come!"

Damien nodded in greeting as Melanie instantly replaced her irritated expression with a warm smile.

"Oh, the pleasure is all ours, really. There is nothing we'd rather do."

The two women smiled at each other as a slightly awkward pause took place and the teacher snuck a glance at Damien.

"Well…I believe everyone has arrived."

"Oh? You'll be gathering the entire group then?"

"Yes, if you'll excuse me…"

"Please don't let us keep you."

"Ah, then…if you need anything," Another glance at Damien accompanied by a faint blush. ", don't hesitate to call."

"Of course, Miss Sheridan."

"Please, call me Hazel."

Melanie had to make an effort not to shake the ridiculous woman until she stopped making lovesick eyes at her brother…or stopped breathing, whichever came first.

"If you insist."

The woman reluctantly drifted off, looking over her shoulder once more as Melanie continued smiling. She waited until Miss Sheridan was out of earshot before she spoke.

"Annoying little cretin, isn't she?" Her lips compressed just the slightest bit.

"Quite."

Then Chris skipped over, tugging on their sleeves as he pulled them towards the trams, and they focused their attention on him.

Hazel Sheridan turned from her seat, watching Damien as he listened to Chris talk with a serious look on his face, and blushed as she caught the redheaded Mrs. Isaacs's knowing smile.

"Mister Dwayne is it? He's handsome enough even with his better-than-everyone personality."

Hazel flushed as the other mothers leaned in around the two.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Sweetie, there are stars in your eyes." Mrs. Vander broke in with a laugh after she finished tying her son's shoes.

The other women chuckled as the young teacher ducked her head, mortification and embarrassment making her face a deep crimson.

"I don't see why anyone would fancy that bloke."

Mr. Smith slapped his hand on his knee as the other fathers guffawed.

"Thinks he's better than the whole lot of us, he does."

"Why, when I invited him to our annual Fathers' golf trip he said that he had _things_ to do!"

The men rolled their eyes as Mr. Nelson indignantly puffed out his chest.

"Well Steve, if you told people before the day of the trip maybe more of us would go."

"Oh…well…"

Mrs. Nelson sighed as she uncapped a water bottle for her daughter.

"Please Steve, not today."

"Sorry M'dear."

Mrs. Nelson turned to the women with an exasperated smile.

"Men."

"We know dear, we're all married."

They exchanged sympathetic clucks and nods as Hazel sat in the midst of them, confused.

"Anyways, you'd best forget any affections you have for him Miss Sheridan; he's a married man after all."

Mrs. Smith gasped as she ignored her squabbling children, expertly keeping the two apart with a firm grasp.

"Married? But she introduced herself as _Miss_ Dwayne."

"Oh fine, as good as married then." Mrs. Vander corrected herself, rolling her eyes.

"No!"

"Well, it's rather suspicious isn't it? Two so called siblings raising a boy alone."

"Scandalous!"

"He doesn't look anything like her though."

There was a violent eruption of whispers as the women crowded closer together and the men shook their heads, Mr. Isaacs mouthing 'Women'.

Hazel suddenly broke out laughing and they all stared at her.

"Are you alright Miss Sheridan?"

"Of course she's not! The poor thing is in shock!"

"Oh no, no, no. I'm fine. Really." She placed a hand on her chest as she calmed herself, a bright smile lighting her face.

"Mister Dwayne and Miss Dwayne are really siblings. From what I gather, Christopher's mother died when he was still very young and Miss Dwayne came to help Mister Dwayne raise him."

The ladies sat back with pitying looks on their faces.

"Oh, the poor man. No wonder he's so withdrawn."

"I always did say that he couldn't really be so conceited."

"Miss Dwayne does have such a kindly air about her."

They cast encouraging smiles at Melanie when she looked up and saw the group staring at her.

"Dai," Chris and Damien both glanced up. "Why are they all looking at us as if we've suddenly contracted incurable diseases?"

"Just smile Mel— it's what you do best." Damien nodded gravely as Chris gestured grandly as he launched back into his description of all the things he wanted ride.

--------

Chris giggled, delightedly watching his father and aunt duck out of sight of the café's window as his teacher walked past with a group of mothers.

As soon as they had entered the park the families had been told that they could go their separate ways as long as they met up in few hours for a few group activities and such. The Dwaynes had slipped away while the others were talking amongst themselves, splitting into groups.

In between Mr. Smith's 'Right, well so who'll you be going with Miss Sheridan?' and Mrs. Vander's 'She's in our group. Won't you join us Mister and Miss Dwayne?' they had successfully disappeared into the crowd. Now it seemed that Miss Sheridan's group, with Mrs. Vander in the lead, was determinedly combing the park for the Dwaynes.

Melanie wiped a smear of ice cream from Chris' cheek and sighed wearily.

"I blame this completely on you, Dai."

"Don't be such a child Mel."

"Just a few days past you told me I was child. I am only acting as I should."

"Why are we hiding?" Chris dodged Melanie as she raised the napkin to his face again.

"Because dearest your teacher likes Papa but your Papa doesn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her he doesn't like her."

"Oh…you should tell her Papa; Miss Sheridan won't mind if you're telling the truth: she said that even if it might hurt the other person you should always tell the truth."

Damien scooped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

"Thank you Chris, I shall keep that in mind."

"You're very welcome Papa."

Melanie opened her mouth to speak but paused and then closed it. Instead she leaned over the table and wiped the smidgen of whipped cream off the corner of her brother's mouth.


	3. To thine own self be true

_AN:_ This chapter was actually supposed to be centered around the Zabinis...but it didn't quite turn out that way. I didn't intend to cut out the whole bit about Alice but it happened; she's actually been pushed back a chapter or two so no worries. I...just go read it, please?

_I don't own Harry Potter and/or Hamlet._

**Chapter Two-** _To thine own self be true_

Moving across the marbled floor of the theater lobby, Melanie rolled her program in her gloved hands. Damien came up behind her and she obligingly slid off her cloak, her brother took it and handed it to the uniformed man who slid up beside him. The man waited as Damien shrugged off his overcoat and helped Chris out of his before he took those and slipped away.

Smoothing back a lock of Chris's hair Melanie surveyed him with admiring eyes. Donning a black suit complete with a satin tie and leather shoes, his hair slicked back, Chris looked every bit a perfect gentleman in miniature.

A man in the uniform tuxedo of the theater appeared at their elbows and murmured that the performance would commence in a few minutes. Damien nodded in thanks and offered Melanie his arm. She took it gracefully, resting her fingers lightly on the back of his hand and then turned to Chris who, mirroring his father, offered her his arm.

She smiled at his gallantry and then accepted it with a serious air. Once they were seated in their box Damien and Melanie looked fondly at the boy in between them.

"I've heard that most eight year olds ask for a party on their birthdays, not to go to a play."

Chris's brow furrowed and he frowned at her.

"Did you not want to come? You should have said something."

"No, this arrangement suits me just fine. I'm simply wondering whether you asked to come here because of us— it is your day Chris; we're supposed to do what you want."

Chris grinned and swung his legs. Damien placed a gentle hand on his knee and he stopped.

"This is what I wanted to do." Then as if sensing that Melanie's doubts hadn't completely been appeased, "It's _Hamlet_ Aunt Mel, _Hamlet._"

"Yes, I realize that."

"It's the Bard, it's Shakespeare, it's—"

"Your current source of life and sustenance, yes, we realize. I find myself regretting the fact that I asked."

Chris had been introduced to Shakespeare for the first time by his Literature teacher. Mr. Barrows had read the class a segment from Hamlet as a mild form of punishment for failing to properly apply themselves to their lessons. He had hoped that the complex structure of the play would intimidate the children. What he hadn't known was that Melanie and Damien quite literally spoke in a similar manner on a regular basis and it hadn't intimidated the young Dwayne at all.

Chris had been fascinated by the brooding Hamlet. His keen mind that promised him the world and yet his inability to reach his potential because of the heavy duty he was charged with by his murdered father. He had taken a copy of the text from the house library and curled up in his room with it, getting so drawn into the play that Damien came looking for him when he missed dinner.

On her way to the office the next day Melanie had paid Mr. Barrows a brief visit, leaving a scathing harangue imprinted in his mind.

She disapproved of his choice of reading material, especially to impressionable eight year olds. At the beginning, insulted that a woman half his age would tell him off in such a manner, Mr. Barrows had defended himself and attempted to establish his position as a teacher and hers as a 'parental unit'.

The problem was that nobody, save Damien, told Melanie what to do, insinuate that perhaps she might be mistaken, or said that she was just plain out wrong. They also never tried to put her under their thumb.

A quarter to the time that school began Melanie passed Chris on his way into the classroom, placing a kiss on his head, and started for the office. Mr. Timothy Barrows never read Hamlet to his primary school students ever again.

And so because of that the Dwaynes were seated in a box at one of England's illustrious theaters, awaiting the production of Hamlet.

As the lights dimmed Melanie felt a bit of remorse at her behavior towards Chris's teacher: it was because of him that her nephew was leaning towards the stage, an excited grin brightening his face. But that tiny bit of remorse wasn't enough to make her apologize to the man, especially since he'd called her a 'parental unit'. Who talked like that nowadays?

--------

_I'll have these players_

_Play something like the murder of my father_

_Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;_

_I'll tent him to the quick. If he do blench,_

_I know my course. The spirit that I have seen_

_May have been a devil, and the devil hath power_

_T'assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps,_

_Out of my weakness and my melancholy,_

_Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds_

_More relative than this. The play's the thing_

_Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King._ (1)

The actor disappeared behind the curtain and the audience clapped thunderously. The lights slowly filtered back on as a woman announced that there would be an intermission.

Rising from their seats, Chris and Melanie stretched while Damien straightened his suit.

"Well, what do you think of the play so far, Chris?"

The boy squinted in the bright light as they stepped out into the hall outside. Excited voices swelled and broke out amongst the crowd downstairs and Melanie leaned on the railing, playing with her glove. Chris wrapped his arms around the carved wooden posts and pressed his face against them, studying the people below.

"It's…awesome."

Damien smirked and Melanie rubbed her eyes.

"But exhausting. We have to go back, don't we?"

"Yes!" Chris answered before Damien, looking glowering at his aunt.

She raised her hands.

"I surrender, I surrender."

The boy laughed cheerfully and Melanie grinned at Damien.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Dwaynes."

Damien and Melanie tensed, their smiles dropping off their faces as they turned to face the newcomer. A tall man dressed in an old fashioned but tasteful suit of the darkest grey, he stood confidently in the middle of the hall, a boy about Chris's age at his side. The two were obviously father and son: both shared the same olive skin and dark hair. Identical brown eyes scrutinized the trio across from them.

Melanie shifted so that Chris was partially behind her as Damien moved to shield them both.

"Amon Zabini. An unexpected surprise, it has been quite some time since we've last laid eyes on each other."

Damien and the man locked gazes and Chris saw his aunt's fingers twitch towards her back where he knew she had somehow hidden a thin and deadly knife.

The man's low laugh was warm but his eyes remained cold, calculating.

"Indeed. Nearly eight years I believe." Amon's gaze moved to Chris and he placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy beside him, his expression not even flickering.

The boy bowed low, his movements astonishingly precise for an eight year old. Straightening, he met Chris's eyes directly.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Blaise Zabini."

"The pleasure is ours, Master Blaise."

Melanie inclined her head just the slightest bit and Chris hesitantly returned the bow; though his wasn't as smoothly executed.

The announcement that the third act of the play would begin and the opening of the doors had the crowd below moving back into the theater. An unspoken agreement passed between Amon and Damien and Melanie interpreted it just as quickly as it did.

"Master Blaise," they all turned to Melanie when she spoke, a pleasant smile on her face. ", will you not join Christopher in our box? It has been so long since we've had the pleasure of your father's company."

After a nod from his father the boy courteously accepted the invitation.

"You don't mind, do you Chris?"

Amon's surprise at the sudden shift in Melanie's tone showed only for the briefest of minutes. Chris curiously looked over at younger Zabini before he replied.

"No, I suppose not. Have you read Hamlet before?" The latter was directed at the other boy who nodded. "Then we'll get along fine."

The two disappeared into the dimly lighted box and the adults watched them go. When the doors were closed safely behind the children the Dwaynes turned impassive gazes to the man before them.

"On whose behalf did you seek us out?"

Amon raised a brow but knew that Damien's lack of subtlety meant that the Dwayne was still startled by the abrupt meeting.

"What, accusations already? It hasn't even been ten minutes yet."

Melanie smiled sweetly and Amon fixed wary eyes on her.

"And why ever not? At our last meeting you were endeavoring to turn our allegiance to Moldywarts— excuse me, Lord Voldemort wasn't it? We have had no dealings with the Wizarding world for these past eight years and we do not plan on changing that in the future."

"Ah yes," Amon casually brushed off the sleeve of his suit. ", you distanced yourself so completely that the news of the Dark Lord's fall never reached you."

Whatever the Dwaynes had been expecting it wasn't this. Damien's eyes flickered to his sister and then back to Amon. The man seemed to be waiting for one of them to speak but he received no response, only a stony silence greeted his words.

"It was sudden and not in the least expected: the Dark Lord fell at the hands of a child seven years ago; to an infant named Harry Potter. I believe I am not mistaken when I say that the name is known to you."

This time they didn't even blink at his words and Amon had to keep his frustration from showing.

"Interesting news indeed, although it does not explain your presence here."

Amon shook his head, knowing that he would get nowhere with these two if he didn't speak plainly.

"I was given no choice but to take his mark; I didn't have the alternatives you did."

Damien gave an indifferent nod and Melanie yawned delicately behind her hand.

"I didn't realize that I would lose my friends because of it…I wish to regain the honor of having them as my companions once more."

Amon sighed when they didn't respond and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Can't you forgive me now? It has been eight years and all."

Melanie blinked then met her brother's gaze; he smirked in amusement.

"If you hadn't realized Mon, we forgave you a long time ago."

Damien's smirk widened when Amon stared at Melanie in bewilderment.

"We were just teasing you. Although," Melanie piped up, grinning at Amon's stunned and slightly exasperated expression, ", the details about Chris…were news to us. We thank you for it."

"You were…_teasing_?"

"It was also very good of you to take the trouble to find us; we made sure it wouldn't be an easy task."

"How could you tease me in such a manner? Do you not think it to be juvenile?"

Damien raised a brow. "I find your reaction to be juvenile; you have endured worse."

"It's been eight years, allow me some leeway." Amon quirked his own grin at his friends.

"You've made him your son; I would not have recognized him for a Potter if I hadn't known beforehand."

"He is my son."

Amon waved airily. "In all but blood." Melanie glared.

"You have just earned our forgiveness; do not throw it away so quickly."

"As your friend it is my duty to remind you that no matter what you might do he will always be Harry Potter; the one who fell the Dark Lord, if but for a short while."

Melanie narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you mean if only for a short while? You said that he had fallen."

"Fallen yes, vanquished no. Rumors fly that the Dark Lord still lives, weakened greatly yet still living. They say he will rise again, greater than ever before and seeking vengeance against the one who made him so pitiful. They call your boy the Chosen One, destined to bring peace to the Wizarding world by ultimately defeating him."

Damien stared steadily at Amon.

"And if these rumors prove true, who says that Chris will fight?"

Amon chuckled cynically.

"Surely you don't believe your son will be left alone? The Dark Lord will seek revenge and he will be forced to fight whether he wishes it or not; whether he is prepared or not."

The Dwaynes lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"And what of you? You are a follower of the Dark Lord; you face horrors that go beyond death should you associate with us, what will you do?"

"I will take the choice into my hands this time: I will stand with my friends." He gave a wry grin. "Besides, my darling wife would kill me herself if I estranged you again."

"Take care not to anger her Amon. Women can be violent creatures whose sadistic natures far outstrip our own."

Melanie smacked Damien.

"Elise isn't like that. How has she been?"

Amon's grin widened. "How do you think? She was angry when she found out that you'd disappeared without a word and that anger has had eight years to grow. Knowing my wife's fearsome wrath I pity you."

Melanie shuddered and Amon chuckled.

"And to think you were defending her not a minute before."

"I most ardently despise you."

"And strangely I am not affected at all."

Melanie froze abruptly and then paled. Damien turned to her in concern.

"What is it Mel?"

"Oh Rowena…I just realized…Chris…is a wizard."

Damien paused as the realization struck him.

"Merlin…"

Amon looked between them in confusion but they paid him no mind.

"We will have to add to his lessons, start him on theory work…I suppose you shall be the one to do that Dai…there's so much that will need to be done…"

Damien sighed. "It seems we must recover our wands."

"We will have to dismiss Rowan and Lucille…Alice shall need to be informed…"

Amon interrupted them in alarm.

"You don't have your wands? Why don't you have your wands?"

Melanie continued to murmur under her breath distractedly while Damien turned to his friend.

"When we resolved to live among Muggles we renounced magic and discarded our wands."

"Mad, completely mad you must have been. Where did you discard them?"

"We entrusted them to Ollivander."

Amon relaxed and nodded.

"I will bring them to you tomorrow."

Damien nodded in thanks.

"Dai," the men turned to Melanie who looked absolutely flummoxed . ", how will we explain this to Chris?"

"Explain what?"

Chris and Blaise had slipped out of the box and were staring at the distressed adults in apprehension.

"Why aren't you inside? The play shouldn't be finished yet."

Damien spoke for Melanie who stood staring at Chris with wide eyes. Chris shrugged as he glanced at his aunt curiously.

"Fortinbras just came onstage; it's practically over. What's going on Papa?"

"If there is no reason to remain here, why don't we remove this discussion to the house? It will be a more appropriate setting."

"I agree." Amon nodded to Blaise who moved to his side. "I will come by as soon as I am able to procure your belongings from Ollivander tomorrow."

The two men exchanged nods before the Zabinis strode away.

"Papa?"

"We'll explain at home Chris."

* * *

(1) excerpt from William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_


End file.
